Light the way
by alexiel-neesan
Summary: Everything began with a rainy day, a report that had been forgotten and Kakashi send to retrieve it. Then it was something else. KakaIru DISCONTINUED
1. Chapter 1

Don't own a single thing. ''Light the way''belong to Damien Saez.And incoming slaughter of English because I'm just a English-learning French girl. Feel free to point out my many mistakes.

**Warning:** weirdo ahead. I've drawn a picture of this character in an hospital bed. And this came with.It's coming on its own from the depth of my brain… so consider yourself warned.

Note: I've found that some of the points I've wrote in this story are oddly similar to 'Bittersweet' by I-don't-remember-who on the ScarecrowXdolphin community. I'm sorry if it will look a bit alike your work but I promise I've begin to write this before I've read your story ( which one I like a lot by the way).

To Carcinya (Isolde1) and Nezuko. Thank you for your wonderful stories ( et l'aide avec la traduction!).

* * *

Something is wrong. 

That was the very first thought that crossed his mind, even before he paused a second to register where he was. Or tried to. His head was feeling like one of those big, fluffy and painless cloud, that were lazily grazing in the bright blue skies behind the window, had elected home between his ears.

So, something was wrong, but he couldn't make himself care. He couldn't focus on anything right now, not with all those clouds in his head.

He could not feel anything, but it was fine, really.

His eyes were open, and he was staring at whatever was behind the window, though he was not seeing anything. That was fine too. He did not mind.

All was white.

But he did not mind the white either.

* * *

It must be later he thought. All was still white, but he couldn't see the sky anymore. 

How did I end up here ? he wondered. Where is 'here' anyway?

It seemed he could think a little more easily. He was still having troubles however at getting where he was, or feeling how he was.

There were noises. Smalls and regulars noises next to him, sudden, brief and irregulars ones further away. Voices.

His brain registered all that thoughtlessly, training taking the lead – hearing, registering, analyzing without the need of his mind.

He could not make himself pay attention to the answers drawn by this part of his brain.

All was white.

The feeling of his body came back when the clouds returned to the sky.

He felt his head, his heavy, steadily pounding clouded head, turned slightly to his right – toward the window.

He felt that he was laying on his back.

He felt his left arm, resting unusually heavy on his abdomen; his right one, abandoned on his side; his legs, as if disconnected from the main part of his body.

He felt all that with this part of brain which worked automatically.

He could not make himself try to recall what had happened – it must had happened something, right? – neither put the finger on what was wrong. Nor put a name on where he was for all that mattered.

* * *

He must had only close his eyes a little moment, because the light was nearly the same. Though he could feel his body a little better. Not that he wished to. He did not know why, just that he did not want to feel his body with acute perceptions right now. There was a discreet but persistent tingling into his limbs he knew was there, at the edge of his consciousness, going slowly on its way. 

The feeling of wrong-ness came back.

But he could not get why he was having this feeling. Neither why he was there. Nor what happened for him to end up 'there' wherever there was.

Damn clouds.

Painkillers his brain supplied helpfully.

Right there. Painkillers. Greats amounts of. Damn painkillers.

His eyes traveled from the unseen window to what was around.

White. White walls. White painting. White ceiling. All was white. White-hospital.

Okay there. He was in a hospital. It explained the regular beeping – monitor – and the irregular noises. It explained the painkillers clouding his mind. It explained a little why he was here – must have been injured or something on a mission, right ? But it did not do anything about how he ended here. He could not remember. But he did not care.

_I just hope 'here' is Konoha._

_

* * *

_

My, my, this is awfully short...I leave you wonder at who 'he' is. It wouldn't be fun otherwise.

If I've made huge mistakes which can't be left running without punishment, please tell me so I will not do them in the future!

Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

None of this belongs to me. Shame.

Warning: less weirdo ahead ? Still coming from the same place though. Thank my literature class.

* * *

A dark figure was standing up in front of a door, his hands in his pockets. Just as if waiting for someone to open said door. 

He had came back three days ago from a S-class mission. Top secret stuff and all, report to Hokage only. It had been a success, save for the fact he had had to use the Sharingan in order to get his butt out of danger. He had not had to use it too long though, which explained why he was not still stuck into bed trying to gather back chakra and strength. It did not mean he had not had to pass by the hospital square – as much as he hated it --, and he had to take it easy. Tsunade-sama made sure to imprint it 'in this thick skull of yours'. No unconsidered chakra expense, and maybe he would 'be lucky enough to go back to active duty before the end of the week'. Not that Konoha could afford to be low on troops right now.

That is why he had happened, entirely by accident, to pass by the Hokage's Tower and the mission desk earlier on. And get thrown out of said room by a very smiling Godaime.

''Hatake, I thought I've made myself clear earlier.''

"Maa Hokage-sama, how to put this…" At this moment, the smile retracted a bit, leaving a smirk.

"It's good I have you there however, everyone else is over-busy! Get to Umino's place and bring me back the rapport he should have given me. I believe you know where he lives? Good now shoo."

He had been tempted to leave by the window, but a hazel eye made him reconsider the idea. Hatake Kakashi, elite jounin, Sharingan user and former Kyuubi's host's sensei, left the mission desk by the doors. After all, he wasn't as suicidal as people used to think.

So he was there, in front of Umino's place.

The bright blue sky had made way to a stormy one, winds shifting, bringing the scent of rain.

He tapped against the wooden door. No response. He tapped again.

"Iruka-sensei?". Silence.

He reached for the door knob, finding it turning freely under his grasp. It was amazing the number of people who left their door open in this village. Being ninja did not immune from burglary yet.

He wonder at the number of time he had came here, in front of that door. First to extract Naruto from his beloved Iruka-sensei's home – rarely, but it did happen. Then to bring news about Naruto and his training, when he come across bits of information about him and the old pervert during missions. But never he had stepped into the younger man's home. Never being invited to. As far as he knew, Umino had never invited anyone to step into his house besides Naruto.

He felt like intruding when entering the small entrance, evading the rain drops that had begun to fall.

No light.

Somehow, Kakashi had always pictured Umino Iruka as the people guy type. Always smiling, at least when he was not showing his temper – and he was having one, oh my! Kakashi had been on the receiving end of his temper enough times, along with all the children population of Konoha which had had him as Academy teacher. The kind of guy to stick to his teen's girlfriend, to have picture albums and pictures hanging on the walls, to like to hang around with his friends, to go pray regularly outside the big celebrations, to keep his apartment cleaner than your average man, to have a cat or goldfish.

Kakashi had seldom see the guy outside work, sometimes in Ichiraku but with the team, they even drink together once or twice with the whole gang -- when Kurenai managed to sound terrifying enough to convince him to come along instead of reading one of his many beloved books.

But he could already scratch the whole girlfriend thing. He had never seen the guy with anybody for all that matter, even if Anko was regularly clutching at him like a leech. And Kurenai, when they were all comfortably tipsy – or downright drunks-- , never forget to harass the guy about his love life – rather his absent one.

Same for the hanging up thing. It was as if the guy was glued at the mission desk. If he was not in the Hokage Tower, then he would be at the Academy. Or at Ichiraku. Always polite and smiling. Frosty-polite. The guy could just as well be waving a flag reading 'I'm happy and I don't need you!' thought Kakashi.

He himself was not on the best of terms with the Chuunin. Just work acquaintances who happened to care about the same boy. Their relationship had morphed a little in best with the departure of Naruto and Kakashi bringing news; but they were comrades, no more.

He found the light.

The apartment was small but slightly bigger than his. An entrance, then a kind of dinner-living room with a counter opening for the kitchen, the foot of a bed hidden behind a dividing wall, a door ajar – bathroom.

No-one. No cat nor fish tank either. The only word he could come across to describe Iruka's place was austere. No expected photographs, no pictures album, no painting or scroll on the walls, no house plant.

If Kakashi had not know where he was, he would have thought he was in one of those too many empty apartment for sale.

No wonder the guy spent so much time working. His house looked like a goddam monk cell! Even Kakashi's place was more lively than this one.

He entered the sejour-thing, an old couch and a traditional table.

So much for him, there were pictures. Framed ones, placed on a piece of furniture against the wall. He recognized one immediately – it was a picture of his team, team 7, after the catch-bell 'mission'; Naruto irate, Sasuke sulking, Sakura grinning in a fan-girl fashion and him smirking above them. How long since this picture had had been taken ? A year, a year and half even. So long ago…

The other one was obviously one of Iruka's parents, the woman holding a bundle of clothes in her arms while the man was putting an arm on her shoulders. He could not figure if they were Chuunin or Jounin since they were dressed in ceremonials kimono, but he remembered hearing that they both have been killed during the Kyuubi attacks. They looked happy.

The last one was facing the wood of the furniture. Kakashi picked it up, looking at it in the light by sheer curiosity.

Iruka was the most recognizable out of the four people in the photo. Kakashi chuckled. No wonder where Naruto megawatt grin came from, he got the portrait of the former user in hand. The girl and the jounin behind them where unknown to him – wait, if he did count right, Iruka was a genin when he himself was part of the ANBU ranks… it tended to cut a bit people from social life. Maybe had he crossed them without knowing. The fourth person stirred some memories. Wait, white hair, same age as Iruka… Oh yeah, he got it. Mizuki. The cursed traitor. The guy who tried to kill Umino and Naruto after he told the truth to the boy. The guy Umino went after. He found that he did not know if the guy was dead or not. Whatever.

He had a glance around him, noting the stereo and the abandoned Cds, the shell in the bedroom part full of books, the tops of the furniture slightly dusty, the stained green padded vest thrown on the couch.

The report was dejectedly lying on the table, filled by sharp black hand writing. Umino's one for sure. But he had been messy. There were tiny dots of ink all over the document.

He took the sheet, bringing it closer from his eye. Yeah, those ink dots were not. He brought it closer from his face, barely sliding the edge of his mask to smell the paper. Blood. Human blood.

Once he got the odor, he could smell it in the house. This smell of old dried blood, melded to dust and to the earthy smell coming from outside because of the rain. Umino must have come back wounded once or twice, he thought, the odor had soaked the place, mixing itself to the scent of chalk and paper typical of the Academy and the people who worked in.

He folded carefully the paper and put it in one of his pockets while stepping back to the entrance. Tsunade-sama would not be that pleased to find that Umino's report was unreadable because of the rain, would she?

He flipped the light off, closed the door and cast a bored glance at the pouring rain.

He was going to get as wet as one of his dogs, going all the way to the Hokage Tower on foot. Damned rain which made everything so slippery when going on chakra-steps too. Not that he wanted to face the Hokage in full medical-mode.

Hatake Kakashi made slowly his way toward the building, avoiding puddles and others tricks made by rain, his mind taking his own little path. He wondered what had happened to the always-on-time Chuunin, to made the Hokage made him between all people go retrieve this report.

Guess he would have just to ask.

* * *

Well, those were the two parts I've done so far… I've got no idea for the next ones, so maybe if you left a little review it could trigger the muse ? 

If I've made huge mistakes which can't be left running without punishment, please tell me so I will not do them in the future!

Thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

_Not to me. I'm pretty sure the weirdo is continuing…I've forget to note that this is happening during the 'time-skip'._

* * *

So ask he did, when he handed, somewhere near three hours later, the unfolded blood-stained document to an exhausted-looking Hokage above what seemed to have been, a long time ago, before the paper invasion, her desk. She did not answer, sending him to one of her Chuunin assistant.

The guy – he knew him from sight, but never managed or bothered to remember his name – looked oddly… concerned ? when Kakashi asked him where was Umino. The guy frowned, cast a glance to the spike-haired guy who seemed to always come along with him and who shrugged in response, before saying a single sentence.

"He's in the hospital."

Kakashi frowned slightly behind his mask at this reply, a move that passed unnoticed. The two Chuunin were already carrying huge stacks of paper to the mission office. Outside the walls of the building, the rain was still pouring down, hiding Konoha from sight between curtains of water and clouds of mist.

When he entered the white building, Kakashi was wetter than if he had swam with his clothes on. He glanced around him, surveying the hall just to be sure Tsunade had not teleported herself suddenly, before he used a variation of a small fire jutsu to dry himself. He did not wish to face the Hokage nor the hospital staff wrath.

Then he calmly walked to desk, and asked the room of the Chuunin to the woman who had watched him make a puddle while stepping in with narrowed eyes.

The Chuunin was in a single room, white from floor to ceiling, lighted only by what little came from the ajar door and from the window with its shades up – by what little daylight coming from the outside.

Kakashi paused on the threshold. He slowly lifted a hand to knock softly at the door.

"Iruka-sensei? May I come in ?"

Kakashi was waiting for him to say something along the lines of 'Even if I told you no, you would came in anyway', the kind of sentences they throw at each other without really thinking about it, when they met without an audience that was. Or maybe was he waiting for a smile.

Umino did not respond, did not make a single sound or move to show he had heard him. He stayed laying, his head turned to the lef side, toward the window. Kakashi could not see his face.

"Iruka-sensei?" Kakashi asked again. Maybe the guy was sleeping.

He opened the door fully, stepping into the room. As he get closer, he studied the room and its inhabitant almost mechanically.

The room was kind of bare. Bed, a piece of furniture that could pass for a night stand, another for shelves; all, besides a change of clothes on a shelf and a bottle of water on the night stand, were devoid of any things Kakashi could think of he had had already see in hospital rooms. Things like good-wishes cards. Flowers. Books. Little gifts. Even plushes.

Kakashi frowned, refocusing on Umino. His right eye slide clinically, almost coldly on the body hidden under the gray-green blankets, save for the torso and arms. Left arm – plaster cast from shoulder to fingers, left leg – probably broken too, too stiff under the sheets, what he could see from face and skin – bruises already fading, right arm – laying on the man's side, restrained by IV, various bags dangling from it.

Kakashi toke one last step closer to Umino. The man's eyes were open, staring absently by the window.

His mind noticed the pale skin where he should have seen tan one, the hair framing the tired face on the pillow where he should have see a ponytail, the vacant stare where he should have see warm brown eyes with a hint of mischievousness in to who know how to look.

"Iruka ?" Kakashi tried again.

No move, just the small rise and fall of a heavily bandaged chest and the steady drip from a plastic bag in a plastic tube.

By the thinner part of the wall that was the window came the muffled sound of the rain on the roofs of Konoha.

Kakashi found with a jolt that he did not like this Iruka.

This Iruka who seemed hollow. This Iruka who did not smile, or scream in anger, or tease him back, or laugh. This Iruka who was just laying there, staring at the kami knew what by the window.

The window which was showing just moving gray, and the translucent jewels that were steadily dropping on the glass.

* * *

_I'm sorry to have made such a short chapter, but it seemed to be a good part to cut it as I've planned to continue. That and I've drawn Kakashi at the door, then Kakashi and Iruka in the room on my ride to Grenoble Tuesday. The next part should be up soon since I've got half of it' mind-written'. Thanks to all people for reading this, and to the people who reviewed – it was just a strange, unreadable drabble written in class at the beginning… And for who was wondering, I don't know when this fic will earn its M-rating. And also, if you have idea for a better summary, I'm all ears, mine suck._


	4. Chapter 4

_Everyone can thank baccalauréat-style math tests I end always an hour earlier. Otherwise this one would not have been there, or would have but much more later. Thanks to Beileil for pointing my mistakes and Meelee for the encouragement._

_None of this belongs to me._

_'Please just, Light the way.'_

_April the 22nd : tense mistakes fixed. Thank you ree'rhea.

* * *

_

All was gray this time. Gray and like it was moving.

The tingling was still there, in all his left side, like the ghost of a sensation. Going stronger, sometimes fading, coming back, still there.

He noticed he was not aware of the time, or of the passing of time. Until there was someone else near.

Maybe this someone talked, maybe not. Maybe this someone was a person he knew, maybe not.

He could not move, or pay real attention to what was going on, who was there. Not that he really wanted to.

He did not want to know too. He did not care.

It was gray, and something was telling him he was in Konoha. It was enough.

* * *

Kakashi stayed silently to Iruka side until this one close his eyes, falling apparently asleep. In truth, he only stayed next to the man for something like ten minutes. Then, as silently as he had stayed, he stepped out of the room, pulling the door behind him without closing it, leaving it in the same state he had found it.

Standing in the corridor, he leaned against the wall, closing his eye and taking in a long breath.

He did not know why it had shaken him so much. It was the first time he visited someone in the hospital, and certainly not the last too. Moreover, he barely knew the guy. Then why?

He opened his eye. A flash of light pink at the other end of the corridor caught his attention. A pink that was coming toward him. He lifted a hand in greeting, falling back behind a mask of false cheerfulness.

"Hello Sakura-chan!"

The pink hair made a funny little bounce.

"Kakashi-sensei! I didn't see you!"

Hatake studied the smiling girl dressed in medicnin uniform now in front of him. She sure had grown since the last time he had seen her that close. How long was it? Four, five months? Being the Hokage apprentice kept her busy, really busy, and he, without his team now, had gone back to the familiar 'mission after mission' kind of schedule, which kept him away of Konoha most of the time. It was a rare event for them to come across one another.

The not-so-smiling girl that was eyeing him critically.

"You're not injured at least?" she frowned.

Kakashi eye-smiled some more.

"No, no, just happened to be visiting someone … Been a long time since I saw you."

Sakura green eyes slid from her teacher to the side, noting the almost closed door Kakashi was leaning not far from.

"Can I buy my former student a tea?"

Sakura came back on the man in front of him, smiling.

"Sure! You're lucky Shizune-san ordered me to take a break."

Somehow they ended sitting around tea in the hospital cafeteria in a corner, Sakura doing most of the small talk, relating the latest gossips she had came across, the little adventures happening everyday in the hospital. Kakashi found it strangely relaxing. No life or death matters, no blood involved or so little it did not really mattered, no killing. A part of his mind wondered when in the hell he began to bother to pay attention to little tiny things like that.

"It's rare to see you this days Kakashi-sensei."

"Ma… about as rare as seeing you. The Hokage seems to think you could get bored outside the hospital."

Sakura smiled. Before, she would have giggled.

"Tsunade-sama expects a lot… and… I kinda prefer being busy. Your turn: what are you doing here? I've heard you were always out on mission."

"Er… I've been kindly asked to take a little rest." He eye-smiled, scratching the back of his head. He looked at Sakura, who was sipping her tea. The front of cheerfulness disappeared, letting way for a more serious face. He knew she knew. Though he did not expect her to make the first move.

" You've seen Iruka-sensei, haven't you."

He nodded.

"What happened to him?" He did not add 'He did not notice I was there.' He did not know why. Maybe because it would have sounded a bit personal. Because it would have sounded stupid. Because he would have sounded like a child, which he had almost never been. He stared at her. She sighed before answering, voice lower, staring at her hands crossed in her lap.

"I truly don't know. He came, or was brought in, something like a week ago. I've visited him once. He's under so much painkillers he doesn't react to anything." Well, Kakashi thought, it explains that.

"You have no idea how he ended up in this state ?" he asked in the same tone. He mentally kicked himself for not have take a look to the report he had given to the Hokage. But it could have been the report of another mission.

Sakura shook her head, making pink locks flying around her face. Her pale face.

"I suppose it was mission-related, that's all. Seems he was regularly outside for missions lately. The Academy isn't open everyday."

The windows of the cafeteria were opening on the hospital park. Usually it was a place fully of life, bright, where shinobi and civilians mixed together, with future fathers, future brothers and sisters, people waiting, people learning how to live again. Today, with the rain and the lack of light, the place was rather miserable and dead-looking. Bleak. The trees in the park seemed dead, darkened by the water, adding an eerie aura to the light coming through the picture windows.

They felt silent, Sakura fidgeting her empty cup, him watching her. Then she talked again, head bowed.

"Sensei… do you have… do you have any news?"

Kakashi smiled for real this time, although sadly, behind his mask.

" I've heard a strange white-haired pervert guy got thrown out of a thermal village earlier in the month…"

Sakura made a little smile.

"I hope Naruto will not take Jiraya-sama bad habits."

"Bad habits? What bad habits are you talking about?" asked innocently Kakashi, a hand moving like he was going to take his infamous book.

"Sensei-i…" warned Sakura, left eye twitching slightly.

Kakashi held out his hands in a "not-me" gesture. He stood up, ready to leave.

"I'm sorry Sakura." Sorry. An apology for another. Sorry. Sorry I have not heard anything about Sasuke. Sorry I had not been good enough. Sorry I did not care about you all enough. Sorry I had been a sorry excuse for a teacher.

Sakura was looking at him with wide eyes. So she had understand, even the thought part. She always had been bright; right she was a little inattentive at the time, but she knew how to make her brain works. She mouthed something before putting sound louder.

"You have nothing to be sorry about Kakashi-sensei."

On an impulse, she stood up and hugged him. She was just a head shorter than him now. He carefully put his hands on her shoulders. He had never been a people person, never been a social animal. Touch were limited to one-night stands, blows, training, and further away, friendly, loving touch faded into memories.

She took a step back, discreetly wiping her eyes.

"I was glad to see you Kakashi-sensei."

"It was good to see you too Sakura-chan." Kakashi found that it was the truth he was telling, as surprising as it could be.

* * *

Kakashi managed to get to one of the take-out restaurant he used to go before drowning while walking outside. He took enough food for two meals, not planning to step out of his apartment any time before the rain stopped. When he reached his apartment, he locked himself in the bathroom until he felt human again, and not like something that had drowned and died in the gutter and had been brought back home by the dog.

He ate, tidied his kitchen a bit, found back two scrolls he did not remember he had put in a cupboard between two pack of instant food, took a book, read a bit, switch off the light for the night, the rain a steady and low pounding on the roofs around.

There, in his silent house, in the dark, his mind got back to a particular Chuunin, trying to analyze what it could, trying to understand, trying to classify what he had felt, why, how.

Hatake Kakashi found it surprisingly difficult to fall asleep that night.

* * *

_Just to remind you, this is a KakaIru fic, not a KakaSaku. I'm pretty sure I've mess with the verbs this time. Please, tell me if things looks weird to you, I'll know what to do better, or what to explain in details next time. What seems to me logical can seems to you really odd. Especially when I've done most of it at school, between math and literature classes._

_Thanks for reading. I don't know when will be the next update, since I will not have access to any computer for Easter break ( and Easter break is two weeks long here). Maybe you'll be lucky enough to find a nice real long chapter. Encouragements ?_


	5. Chapter 5

_Warning: Language ? This chapter is mostly seen in Kakashi shoes ( it's not a POV chapter) and if you find him (too much) OOC,… er well… tell me ? And again, forgive me in advance for the horrendous mistakes I've certainly didn't failed to make. By the way, thank you to the reviewers who have been kind enough to explain and correct my mistakes. Thank you again. Musical background: Sigùr Ros, "Agoetis byrjun"

* * *

_

The next two weeks, Hatake Kakashi, as known as the Copy Nin and Sharingan Kakashi, came back only three times in Konoha, just long enough to turn in his report, eat, take a shower and sleep before grabbing another mission and being out again. All thoughts besides "complete the mission" and eventually "stay alive" left his mind. By the end of the second week, he very, very focused on this last thought. He even lost track of the time.

So, when he came back from his last assignment slightly worse for wear, Tsunade give him the week. Certain witnesses said that he had, in fact, being threatened of bodily harm if he even show the tips of his gravity-defying silver hair in a five hundred meters radius around the Hokage Tower before a week. However those statements were not confirmed.

In truth, Kakashi was relived by the order. He was barely standing up, and needed sleep. No wonder he failed to notice, when jumping onto the roofs, the odd animation in the streets for this hour of the night, or the flags here and there, or the fireworks ready to be fired. He had slipped in a half-awake, half-asleep state, noticing only potentially lethal things going toward him.

As soon as he reached his house, his body falling bonelessly on his bed, not bothering to undress, he was dead to the world.

* * *

In the morning, surprisingly late for him when he was used to got up early to go to the monument before everything else, he was waken, quite stressfully, by whistles, shouts of joy, music and such, all coming from the street under his apartment.

_What the hell ?_

He managed to sit enough to cast a glance by the window upon his bed, gathering information on what was going this time. His heart missed a beat when his eye came upon an orange kite flying in the sky over the rooftops of Konoha, looking very much like a stylized nine-tailed fox.

The tenth of October.

It was the fucking tenth of October and he had lost track of the time once more. This time, he was feeling like it was once too many.

Kakashi found himself at a loss to what to do now. Any other "free" day, he would have go, alone, to the monument for a not so quick hello, then he would have wandered around, maybe catching Genma in the process for the lastest gossips and tidbits of information coming from the mission desk before going to Ichiraku, and then perhaps crossing a well-known couple which was acting like they were not one, or evading Gai on one of his rant about youth while reading a good book.

He knew that neither one of the last three persons he had thought of were in Konoha right now, and Genma was ridden to the mission desk, in the Hokage Tower, where he was _persona no grata_ right now.

The monument was no possibility too. Too many people would came by the stone and pray for their dead on this particular day. He was not looking forward seeing people, one, praying, two, offering him their condolences, when they remembered he had been Yondaime's student and dared talk to him.

Going out would not be that a good idea either, even if he avoided as much as possible the bustle. Everything his eye would came upon, every place, the Ichiraku more than any other, would scream his failure as a student and as a teacher to his face, more than any other day.

Today would be a good day to play dead under his blankets. Yeah, it sounded damn good. Hidden from everything, a book in one hand, flashlight in the other, and waiting for the day to pass. Just like a kid frightened by the storm would hide, thinking he would be safer under his blankets to wait for the thunder to go and fade away.

Sometimes, on days like this one, Kakashi wished things could be that simple.

So, he was thinking of staying inside for the whole day, maybe sleeping some more… if this damn window did not open right on one of the main streets where the festival decided to take loudly place, that could have been done.

Kakashi got up with a groan of annoyance. He stretched carefully, knowing he had some painful but not severe cuts here and there, before tossing his dirty and crumpled clothes on the floor of the bathroom. He did not even glance at his reflection in the mirror. Knowing he had failed to remember this day between all left him rather depressed. He did not need to add seeing that face to this day.

His stomach grumbled loudly, reminding its owner that his last meal was a bit too distant to its taste.

However, when Kakashi opened his fridge, he only saw a bright white light coming from its depths.

_That's the proverbial icing on the cake._

He closed the door, and sit here, half dressed, on his kitchen floor, suddenly very, very tired and cold and lonely and fed up out of his mind with everything.

His thoughts got back on their own on one Chuunin.

He could always go see if the guy was more awake this time. Anyway, the hospital roof was as good as any other place to go brood in peace for the whole day.

* * *

_A bit shorter than last chapter… but the next part will need a chapter on its own, so there. I think my Kakashi is a bit on the depressed side, but it's kinda how I picture he would feel on this day, though no-one would notice since he would have the same face-expression as usual ( on the little you would see between the hitai-ate and the mask)._

_For those who don't know the tenth of October is Naruto birthday. Do the maths._


	6. Chapter 6

_To answer some of the reviews : no, English is not my native language, I only learn it for eight years now. If you catch huge mistakes, tell me where, it will only ameliorate my writing and your reading.

* * *

_

Kakashi promised to himself that he would never step outside the shelter of his apartment on a festival day again.

The music and noise were not that bad, once he gave up the idea of sleeping all day long. The crowd… well, it was a festival day, wasn't it ? It was normal to see so much people in the streets and in front of the shops.

No, the thing that bothered him most was the all set.

The people, shinobi and civilians alike, in bright festival clothes, mostly kimono, blocking the streets and the shops, singing, shouting to each other to be heard, the kids running and bouncing everywhere shrieking, dragging tiny multicolored kites behind them, musicians and such in the middle of the streets adding their music to the noise.

If it was not bad enough, Kakashi, wearing his uniform since he rarely ever had the use of another type of clothes, stood like a sore thumb in the streets of Konoha.

He was walking as usual, through the crowd, not feeling like jumping from roof to roof, hands in his pockets, not very fast nor slow, and looking for a shop which would not be too packed for him to buy something to eat.

Groceries will have to wait, at least until tomorrow. If he will feel like going out tomorrow that is, and not like being glued to the monument all day long or staying hidden under his blankets enjoying a full day of sleep without a festival going on under his window.

He grabbed some takiyaki from a stand two streets from the hospital, and ate them, nearly inhaling them in the process, before stepping in the building.

For someone who was coming from outside, the white building was strangely quiet. Kakashi saw it as a shelter from the ruckus outside. He walked slowly into the nearly deserted hallways and corridors, save for the minimal medical staff. He figured everyone was at the festival.

Every year, this particular event was growing bigger and bigger, even dragging shinobi from allied villages to Konoha, people who had had only heard of the Kyuubi – or of the attack. The festival was slowly but inexorably losing from sight its first purpose : remember the ones who fall and gave their lives for Konoha to live, the Yondaime in the first rows of those.

Kakashi sighed. He had noticed, the two times he had been able to go in Konoha with Naruto around and from what he had been able to understand from the one-word answers on this subject from the usually chatty boy, that this particular day had been more and more difficult every year for Naruto – and especially since he knew the truth.

Kakashi caught himself hoping that Naruto would enjoy his birthday for once, like a fourteen-years-old boy should enjoy his birthday, since he was away from Konoha.

Then Kakashi was standing in front of the same door that was slightly ajar two weeks before. Tough this time, it was closed.

He suddenly felt stupid. For all he knew, maybe the Chuunin was not even in the same room… he should have asked when entering… but to whom ? The entrance lady had not been there. She had probably go outside, in the crowd that seemed to focus all of Konoha population.

He slowly breathed, searching for the barest trace of chakra that would inform him of whom was in the room. He felt a tiny one, one that was feeling like the Chuunin.

He lifted a hand from his pocket, knocking softly at the door. No response. He knocked again before opening.

"Iruka-sensei?"

There had not had a lot of change in two weeks. Same bare room. He noticed a chair against the wall.

The Chuunin laying on the bed was obviously asleep – Kakashi could tell from the closed eyes, the slow, deep and quiet rise and fall of his chest – still hocked to IV, his left arm still hidden by a plaster cast.

The only detail of importance was that there were books with bookmarks on the nightstand, a book open on Umino's chest, a pen waiting for use on a workbook in his free hand.

Kakashi closed the door, careful not to wake the guy, before dragging the chair a bit closer from the bed, in order to be able to see and survey the window, the door and the room. Old habits died hard. Especially since he was reminded of their lifesaver use nearly everyday.

He smiled, an emotion lost to anyone behind his mask. Umino was only asleep this time if he was already working; not… well, here-but-not-here like before.

By the window could be seen the multicolored kites that were dancing in the skies above the roofs of Konoha. Kakashi briefly wondered how many ANBU squads were assigned to keep an eye on the festival and its numerous guests.

He seated himself on the chair, taking his infamous orange-covered book out of a pocket. The perverted part of his mind was wishing that Jirayia would still have time to write, even with Naruto around to train. Then he buried his nose in the book.

He wondered how long it would take Umino to wake up. Bah, Kakashi had all the time in the world today. He could wait.

_Not a part that will answer that many of the questions… next part should. _

_Self Advertisement: my other fic originally in French is now available in English : "A shinobi is a high school student like an other". It's a AU urban rather dark fic, written from Kakashi POV. The first part is up in English and the second one should follow soon. _


	7. Chapter 7

**Light the way**

'_Eventually we all go home_

_it won't be long_

_it won't be long'_

_- Thursday, 'Autumn leaves revisited'_

_Nothing to me. To MeeLee who was the first one to review and never failed to do so for each chapter. Thank you.

* * *

_

It's the regular sound of pages turned that made him realize he had fall asleep on his self-assigned task – again.

Even if the quantities of painkillers had been lowered, he couldn't help but sleep; way too much in his opinion. And when he was not sleeping, he was sleepy. He hated painkillers – made his thinking blurry, forbade him from keeping his meals down, made him sleep.

But he was forced to agreed that he needed the sleep – and the drugs. Healing was taxing, though less now than at the beginning, when he couldn't stay awake, conscious and aware of what was going on for more than a few minutes.

He felt the warm coming from the window by a stray ray of light falling on his hand. He briefly wondered what time of the day it was now – his sense of time was totally screwed up.

The sound paused, then resumed.

There was someone else in the room.

_Wow, what a wonderful shinobi you make…not even able to feel someone presence in the same room as yours…no wonder you ended up in this state._

He abruptly cut the voice rambling in his head. He had heard it enough already – since he managed to woke up and stay so long enough to remember. He did not like to remember.

The skin – or what felt like his skin – under the plaster cast begin to prickle again. He unconsciously breathed deeper, anticipating the pain that would not fail to come with. Damn painkillers that weren't doing their job.

The pages stopped being turned.

Iruka opened an eye, blinked, narrowed it under the bright light. The skies were a bright blue, uninterrupted by clouds, almost a pure color. The kites were sharply standing out against it.

He dropped the pen he was still gripping on the notebook by his arm to rub the sleep from his eyes. The move was not a complete success – but at least his environment was clearer.

The someone was seated at the other side of the room – not that far – in front of him in a way he did not have to move his head to look at him.

Because it was a him, elbows on his knees, infamous orange book in hand, waving the other, the visible eye curved in what he supposed was a smile.

"Good morning Iruka-sensei. Though I should say 'afternoon' now."

Iruka blinked some more.

"Kakashi-sensei?"

What was he between all people doing here?

"You know, you could sound a bit less surprised… it's a bit on the vexing side there."

Even with a foggy brain, Iruka could notice that Hatake's words were less caustic that what he was – surprisingly – used to.

"Anyway, you certainly look better than last time I saw you."

Iruka's mind did a double take. Sure, he seemed to recall that there had been someone here at a certain time, when he was completely out of it – but, in the same time, there was things he had no remembrance of even if they did truly happen in front of him when he was supposed to be partly awake. This someone could not have been Hatake, no?

Iruka, if asked, would go through a hell lot of thinking about what was the nature of his relationship with the jounin. They could not really be tagged as friends, coworkers was not really that… maybe work acquaintances. Without forgetting the whole Chuunin/Jounin, Academy teacher/desk nin compared to special Jounin - the legendary Copy-nin dammit - hierarchy deal. Though he finds that the jounin was less an ass than he acted – not that he would ever said it out loud – and was even fun to bicker with. Without forgetting that he looked forward each visit of the older man after some long mission away, when he would give him carefully collected tidbits of information about their former blond student.

But still, they were no more than work acquaintances. _Are we?_

The chuunin's foggy brain wondered.

"Huh? … when?"

Hatake seemed embarrassed – not, it wasn't that. Hatake was generally not looking himself.

"Maa… around two weeks ago. Seen Sakura too. She was worried about you. How did you managed to end in this state?"

Iruka's eyes stared at the ceiling, unfocused. He could still see the kites cheerfully flying upside the roofs of Konoha by the corner of his eyes. He did not wondered why they were here. They just were, end of the story.

The silence stretched uncomfortably, thickening the air in the room.

He could see Kakashi too. The man was not moving on his seat, managing to look at him without being obvious about it.

"Sorry I asked."

The silence thicken some more. By a play of light, Iruka could notice the tense jaw under the mask of the other man, the drawn lines of his face exposed between the cloth and the askew forehead protector.

Hatake rose from his seat, stepped toward the door. Iruka did not move.

"Get well soon sensei," said Kakashi to the door, reaching for the handle.

"Did you know…," began hesitantly Iruka. Kakashi froze on his spot. Iruka wished he would not move. It was easier to speak to a back than to this man face to face. A back was not looking at you with a single grey eye which was carrying hurt, despair, sorrow hidden behind a like-wall of false cheerfulness. A back was not pulling faces at you from behind a cloth mask. Kakashi's back seemed tired.

"Did you know that mercenaries, probably hired by Oto, used delayed-effects jutsus?… It destroys first chakra paths where it hits, then bones, flesh, skin and nerves at the last – making you wish you had been killed with the first blow."

Iruka's voice brook. He could still heard the screams, the plea for ending the sufferance… He had not realized he had close his eyes, until he opened them again. Hatake's hand was in his, and Iruka was gripping it like his life was depending of it.

"Is it what happened?" Kakashi gestured to the plaster cast with the head. Iruka failed to notice the move.

"They killed Megumi…by the end, she wasn't screaming anymore… like most of the people from the merchants caravan we were supposed to protect…"

The man was shuddering violently, still clutching Kakashi's hand, and Hatake was gripping hard in response. Then Iruka found himself sitting against Hatake, clutching the man vest in a death like grip, the jounin's arms carefully put around the Chuunin.

Neither man was stranger to breaking.

* * *

When Kakashi left, later in the afternoon after this episode which, in an unspoken agreement, neither of them would talk about again, he eye-smiled to the Chuunin.

"Get well soon sensei, and if you're a good boy, maybe I'll treat you to ramen when you'll be released."

Iruka half-smiled.

He was so sleepy… By the window could still be seen the brightly colored kites in the skies tainted with orange and red by the setting sun. He suddenly knew why those kites were there.

It had been a clear and bright full moon night like this one when the Kyuubi struck for the last time, taking his parents' lives.

* * *

_Ah, erm… sorry I didn't update this one sooner ? Where are the muses when you need them? ( insert conscience here: thou should be revising for thy finals exams…). Scared you, huh? Thought you would never know what happened… I'm not that cruel ( even if I'm very cruel with the characters of other people – btw, Megumi is an OC but she's here just 'cause I needed a name.) To the next one dear reviewers!_

_Self-advertisement: I got another fic in English now: 'A shinobi is a high school student like an other', an Alternate Universe, modern days fiction seen through the eyes of our favorite jounin Hatake Kakashi. Two parts on line and the third one shouldn't be long to come, since there's already eight parts done in French. _


	8. Chapter 8

**Light the way**

_Eighth part… still nothing and no-one to me… _

Kakashi was toying absentmindedly with his ramen, sitting at the Ichiraku. He had overslept, not waking up at the time he used to get up to go to the monument. It was rare enough to be noticed. He should be, he mused, more tired than he thought.

The bright sun shining over Konoha's roofs was not doing anything to help him wake properly. He was feeling very lazy, thoughts of basking in the sun and letting free rein to his more animal dog-like side had crossed his mind while stepping out of his apartment.

The streets were still animated. Less than the day before, but still more than the average usual-day-Konoha animated. To him though, it was just a background noise.

He was thinking about his groceries. Seriously. He did not know when he would come back when he would left on the next mission, right ? So it would be better if he did not bought too much, just enough to end the week. But in the same time, he was always starving when he came back, and his fridge was always desperately empty too. But what good would it do to him if all his food was rotten when he would came back ravenous to his apartment ?

Yeah. He was definitely more tired than he thought.

When he realized about what he was thinking, he cut straight his train of thoughts. But his mind did not want to stay empty.

So he find himself thinking about a certain Chuunin.

This was just pure professional interest he kept telling himself, he was just curious about the jutsu Umino had talked about. The jutsu the Chuunin had obviously experimented first hand.

In all the jutsus the Copy-Nin had copied through the years , he could not find nor recall one with such effects. In all the ones he had heard about, same result.

His ramen was now very very well mixed. He toyed with it some more, watching without watching it the steam coming from his bowl curling lazily up and vanishing in the play of light made by the sun outside and the shadowed restaurant.

Someone plopped on the stool next to him. This clothing color was unmistakable. Kurenai.

"Hi Kakashi-sempai.''

Kakashi grunted in her direction. She ordered a bowl. The restaurant was silent save for the noise coming from the cook and the others customers, and the like muffled noises of the streets.

"It had been a while since I saw you in Konoha, Kakashi-sempai." Kurenai was watching him with her strange red eyes.

" 've been forced to take the week… Asuma's came back yet too?"

Her order was placed in front of her. She broke a pair of chopsticks.

"We run into him and Shikamaru when coming back, they were going out again."

She gently mixed her bowl, the steam curling up.

Kakashi was still mixing his bowl.

"How are your brats?"

Kurenai smiled around her food. Kakashi noted that she had circles around her eyes, that she was a bit disheveled, and that her clothes were rumpled. She must had just came back. Her smile was … nostalgic?

"They're not brats anymore… They're growing up."

"Yeah," echoed Kakashi, "They all grow up…"

His ramen was now very well cooled down.

Kurenai stopped eating, looking at him.

"You're okay Kakashi-sempai? It's not like you to let ramen go cold." 'And to brood'. But this part was left implied.

_Was she his friend?_

Kakashi wondered from where had come this thought. It had to be coming from the same place where nice everyday stories from Sakura at the hospital were soothing and where his emotions still had a meaning.

_Genma, Kurenai, Asuma, Raidou, and the others, were they his friends? _

_Had he been a friend to Rin and Obito?_

He plainly stopped his thoughts to continue further on on this path. He did not like to think like that about the past, nor dwell upon it. This was the kind of thoughts he allowed himself only at the monument. Thinking like that anywhere else was just like signing his death warrant. He mentally went back to the first question.

Well… They were jounin. Enough said.

It was well-known that one has to be not sane to become jounin. As one, he was well placed to agree with that statement. Though this statement was not complete. It forgot to mention that jounin were so used to see death and killing on an everyday basis that they were losing bits of humanity – more and more bits with each mission handed and completed.

It forgot to mention that most jounin were retired ANBU. One had to be ragging insane to become an ANBU. The human mind could not bend forever under the stress and inhumanity it witnessed when one lived a ninja's life. So it broke, most of the time, and it was no more human. They were the perfect tools. As one ex-ANBU, he could testify.

It forgot to mention that some people had really to be desperate to trust their lives or their children's lives into hands of people like him.

He had really to be really much more tired than he thought. He was suddenly aware that Kurenai was talking to him.

"…kashi-sempai?"

"Yes? Aa… I must be more tired than I thought, that's all." He completed that statement by scratching the back of his head and smiling from an eye.

Kurenai was staring at him.

"You're sure?" He was no telepath, but he could hear the 'It's not like you to be zoning out like this' all the same. Her red eyes, although tired, were plainly showing concern.

Kakashi smiled some more. According to his twisted and illogical sense of logic, Kurenai had just showed she was his friend. He nodded, then lifted himself from his stool, leaving the payment for his lunch.

"I need to get going. See you around."

He left the shop, seemingly not aware of the curious and concerned stare of the red-eyed woman that was watching him leave the darkened restaurant to vanish into the brightly lighted exterior.

His still full bowl had gone cold by now.

_Was Iruka his friend?_

_The exposed theories about jounin and ANBU are well-known ones on the fandom, don't know from whom they came from in the first place._


	9. Chapter 9

**Light the way**

_Ninth part

* * *

_

Iruka was waiting. He did not know what he was waiting for, but he was waiting anyway.

He was sitting, propped up by many pillows, staring by the window, watching the clouds taking the shapes of imaginary and mythological beasts, growing and growing in the darkened skies, heavy with rain threatening to fall, menacing with promises of bad weather for several days. Sometimes, a leaf colored by the autumn would fly into his field of vision, appearing just to disappear right away, carried by shifting winds.

Autumn was solidly settling itself on Fire Country, and Iruka did not remember seeing the end of the summer.

He sighed, flexing his right hand, hurting from too many writing after a too long time of non-activity.

The scrolls and books laying open in his lap were suddenly very heavy. He had enough of this pointless search for a jutsu that would fit with the description of the one which had been used – which had been used on him, and on Megumi who had just made it to Chuunin the year before, and on this girl who couldn't have been more than ten, and on the leader of the caravan…

He interrupted his thoughts where they were. It would take long for time to fade those memories away. He did not need to relive it through his mind's eyes – it had never done any good to help keeping bad memories at bay.

His arm and leg, under the bandages, began to itch again. He had asked for the painkillers to be stopped. The pain was bearable, and he could now eat without anxiously wondering if he would keep his meal down this time. The medics had told him that he would be released from the hospital somewhere during the next week, but that he wouldn't be able to go back on missions before the end of the year.

He was glad for the news, being stuck in this place was getting him stir-crazy, and he even did not really mind not been able to go back on mission – taking a double shift in the mission room and lean a hand to Izumo and Kotetsu with the paperwork of the Hokage would put perfectly capable ninja back on the field when he could take his load of so hated 'desk-nin' work without problems.

Shizune had dropped by just once, to tell him that he was waited in at the mission desk as soon as he was feeling up to. She knew the extend of the damages made on his mobility by the jutsu, as well as he knew them. He would have troubles just to walk or to bend his limbs in the first weeks, if not months; not to mention that jutsus with hand seals were out of question until the chakra paths in his left arm and leg came back to normal. Just time would ease that all, the medicnins had already done everything they could.

So a desk job looked fine for now.

He put the heavy books and scrolls back on the nightstand, piling them up to fit on the narrow piece of furniture, adding pen and notebook on the top of the haphazardly done stack. He mentally crossed his fingers for the pile not to end on the floor – he did not want to find out if he could get out of bed, walk and squat to retrieve fallen books right now.

He was rather feeling like sleeping – again -, helped by the weather. He pulled the blankets on him again. The hospital seemed to be always too cold, too clean, too white. It always gave him the feeling to be cold, particularly in times like those, when he couldn't really be sure of his body feelings.

He pulled the blankets up to his mouth, leaving just his upper face visible – this upper face turned towards the window. His right hand slid under the warm blanket, hugging himself, careful of the healing ribs still there.

He wondered where was Naruto now, and what was he doing. Hatake had not said anything about Naruto when he came – when was that by the way? Three days ago? Or more? Iruka sighed softly under the blanket. Painkillers or not, his sense of time was still screwed up. Events from a week ago were blurry. So Hatake must has came more than three days ago, because exactly three days ago, Iruka had seen Shizune, then two days ago it had been Sakura, with books coming from the Hokage; but he must has come less than a week ago.

Iruka shifted slightly, transferring most of his lighter weight on his right side, almost completely facing the window.

He would need to go to the monument once back on his feet, to go present his respects to his parents, since he had been unable to do so on the tenth. He realized that his apartment would be a real mess when he would be released, and that no food in his place would be safe to taste.

He stifled a yawn, eyes watering. He blinked several times, then he forget about it, half-closed eyes staring outside.

Hatake had looked strange because it had been the tenth… The older man seemed to still beat himself about Sasuke, but he was also beating himself for others things. Every ninja had a closet full of ghosts and skeletons… maybe Iruka would try to talk to him about all this stuff one day.

Iruka yawned again, trying to refrain him from doing so. He wondered if Kakashi had been serious when saying that we would treat him to ramen. He wondered, with an already half-asleep brain, if the jounin was out there, on a mission. He wondered if he would see him again before being released.

He did not bother to refrain his yawn this time – things were beginning to lost their focus, his environment becoming blurry, the window no more than a big grey square…

Iruka fall asleep as the first droplets of rain began to soundly hit the roofs around.

* * *

_As it's the holidays for me, the chapters of Light the way should come more often… 'Desk-nin' borrowed from Scribbles. See you next time._


	10. Chapter 10

**Light the way**

Tenth part 

_Sorry it took me forever to update this one._

* * *

Iruka woke up in a cold sweat, barely refraining the whimper which crossed his lips from turning in the ear-shattering scream he was ready to utter – the one he was already howling in his dream.

He had been released from the hospital the day before, and just going back to his apartment had exhausted him – he had dragged himself in the streets on the only crutch he could use since he had only one good arm for the moment. The tenth minutes walk from the hospital to his apartment had turned in a half-hour one, badly limping. He had really hoped at this time that the medics had been pessimistic when saying he would have troubles just to walk in the first weeks if not months, even when going back five time a week to the hospital for the torture known as re-education. He would not stand it if he was going to drag himself like yesterday for months.

He rolled from on his back to his right side on his bed, facing the wall, calming his breath. These were just dreams – dreams which happened to look like too much like real events…

Iruka closed back his eyes, forcing the memories of the moving lifeless bodies out of his mind. He had never been able to sleep properly when exhausted. In this state, his mind had a tendency to replay the worst moments of his life; Kami knew he had some, even if he was no jounin or high ranking nin. He was still a ninja, and he had done things that were not fit to be recalled at night; that were not fit to be recalled at all.

This very things that were coming back in these moments were ludicrously deformed, in what always felt like a never-ending horror gallery, where corpses were moving and trying to reach for him, where dead were coming back, where he was running from all that, and where he was always screaming inside so loud he always wondered in the morning how come he still had a voice.

Iruka opened his eyes again, staring at the bare wall in front of him. His room was just lit by the public light down in the street, but he did not need any light to know the number of cracks and fissures and their exact location on the wall. He knew them by heart, with the number of times he stayed awake all night, too exhausted to stay awake, too exhausted to sleep – not daring to go to sleep, by fear of the things coming from the depth of his nightmares, waiting in the shadows to reach for him.

He sighed, knowing he would not be able to get any more sleep this night, but that he was too tired to do anything else but wait for the morning to come while staring at the wall of his room.

In a way, he was glad Naruto was not around. He knew he was the closest thing to a family the boy had, and the young man had long since realized that the boy was the closest thing to a family he had, between a son an a younger brother. Iruka wanted to be strong for Naruto, to be a steady part of his life, much like a father or a older brother should be. He did not wish the boy to see him in such a state.

Iruka wondered, not for the first time since the blond tornado left for training, where was Naruto now, what was he doing, how was he doing, if, for once, the boy had had a proper birthday, as he was away from Konoha.

The light changed, out. He heard the motor-less vehicles coming for the early morning deliveries in the shops, the stores and the restaurants of the streets passing below his place. He heard the shopkeepers calling each other before getting their shops ready.

Iruka wondered, not for the first time in his life, what he would have done of his life if he had not been a ninja.

He could see most of the cracks in his wall now, half because he knew where they were, half because the sun was ready to rise, bathing the room with the beginning of a soft morning light – well, as much as it could rise behind the clouds that had took residence upon the Fire Country for the season.

He blinked, in a rather sleepily manner. Now that the sun was getting ready to show up, Iruka was beginning to get asleep again. Go figure. It was not like he had to be somewhere in the next hours; he would go to the mission desk somewhere like the next day or so and he had not to be to the hospital for some torture exercises before at least three days. He could sleep now. The groceries he undoubtedly needed since the only stuff left in his place that he had not ate when getting back or that had not passed their sell-by date were beers and ration bars, could wait till later in the day.

A random thought popped in his mind before he fall back in Morpheus' arms.

He had not seen Kakashi since this time in the hospital, on the tenth, nearly two weeks ago. Was the jounin even in Konoha now?

* * *

Kakashi watched without seeing it the sun rising upon the still green fields of Grass Country, the wind playing with the vast area, making it looking like it was the fur of a gigantic cat being stroked by gentle fingers. But such metaphors were far from the jounin's mind.

He was hungry, and tired. He was fed up with those wide spaces with no a single tree on the horizon. He was fed up with running all day. He was fed up to be there on the run. He had just enough of everything, much like in the same manner he had had enough of everything on this morning two weeks ago.

Absently, a part of his mind wondered what the heck was wrong with him this time.

He stiffly got up from the hiding place where he had spend the night, trying to sleep; trying had been the key word here. The night had been cold, and the just rising sun was not enough for now to warm him up. He would warm up while running anyway.

Kakashi sighed, his breath creating little clouds of white vapor in the cool morning air. He was tired, he was cold, he was hungry – and ready to strangle the one who created those tasteless, odorless, awful ration bars, which always left him with the feeling he had not eaten anything at all, making his stomach contract painfully. And he was still debating if the guy who asked for him specifically for this stupid 'get a scroll here' over-rated A-class mission had to be strangled first or not.

And he still had at least two days of travel to reach the borders of Fire Country, maybe three given his pace. He had treated the gash in the thigh he had received on the mission just before this one, but it was not cicatrizing as fast and properly as it had should. As much as he hated it, he would need to pass by the hospital when coming back. For now, there was little that could be done to get it better; it was just slowing him down.

He would not be able to be in Konoha in less than five days. He better had to begin to run now to make his way for the day.

He shouldered his pack, grabbing a wrapped up ration bar in the process, before leaving for the wide area. He was ill-at-ease in those space; there was no hiding place, there was too much place, he could be seen by enemies coming from anywhere around, as well as he could see them, but he could not hide, or disappear in the shades as he could in a forest.

Those fields were screaming 'unnatural' to every single instinct of self-preservation he had. He could not wait to get back to the cover of the dense forest surrounding Konohagakure. He could not wait to be back in Konoha. Maybe would he be able to rest a bit this time.

The jounin ate his bar while on the run. A half on his mind was on his surroundings, another half was… elsewhere. Grass was in relatively good terms with Konoha for now, he did not need to keep all his attention on the land around him. If some enemies were to appear, he would see and sense them early enough to snap back to reality.

Half of his mind wandered around a scarred chuunin. _Was Iruka his friend?_

He ran all day long.

* * *

_Self-advertisement : if you like AUs very very AUs, my other fic 'A shinobi is a high school student like an other' is for you. Follow Kakashi in his double life of high school student in a modern days Konoha and of ninja operative in a secret force corp._


	11. Chapter 11

Light the way

_eleventh chapter_

Kakashi hid his limp when crossing the last kilometers to Konoha, hid his limp when passing the gates at nightfall and waving at the bored-looking guys standing guard there, hid his limp when jumping from roof to roof over Konoha to reach faster the Hokage's tower, hid his limp when handing his report to the incredibly-bored looking guy manning the mission desk two minutes before closure, hid his limp when walking out of the room, and gritted his teeth under the pain shooting from his thigh when he collided with the Hokage in the corridor.

She did not say anything, just grabbed him from the back of his vest and dragged him in her office. There, she ripped the makeshift bandages he had put around his leg to absorb the blood sweeping through his clothes, and keeping the wound from turning ugly, then began to heal the inflamed gash.

It was only after she was done that she spoke at last: "Were you planning to go get yourself fixed anytime soon?".

" 'was on my way to do that...". His tone of voice made her look twice at the man sitting before her. She was the Hokage, it was her job to use the ninja for the village - but it was also her job to know them, or rather, like Sandaime had done, to consider every one of them like a member of her family. There were however some people she knew better than other, and Kakashi was one of them.

The road-weary man slumped on the chair in front of her trying to sound as his usual self was doing a sorry job at trying to impersonate the Copy-nin. She mentally sighed. Was she pushing him too much - was she using him too much? But as the Hokage, she was not really given a choice -the village was still low on troops, and most buildings were still waiting to be fixed, or re-built entirely. They needed all the money they could get. One man's life was nothing compared to the village and the thousands of lives it represented.

Her stance shifted from concerned and angry to plain concern. She spoke again, more softly this time. "Go home, Kakashi, and get some rest. Consider it as a vacation - but I'll call you if you're needed."

He nodded for all answer before standing up, his eye not meeting her gaze. She did not add anything, so he stepped out of the room, his slouched stance looking more real than usual. Her gaze followed him until the door closed with a muted noise behind him. She sighed out loud, the tiredness of the day suddenly crashing on her. She turned to the windows, Konoha's rooftops and buildings now only shaped by the light coming from the interiors and the streets.

A pile of books stacked haphazardly by a window caught her eye. Iruka had returned them to her earlier in the day. She sighed again. Yet another person to worry for... She had refused him to go back working at the mission desk right now, saying he still needed some time to adjust and to gather back strength, but she had given him stuff to do anyway - files to class, missions reports to summarize and class, little stuff but stuff that took time and energy. She knew he needed to do something, or he would go down. He was not in the physical or mental state to go back to work yet; though she was kind of pleased he had took more time than she had thought to ask to go back to work.

Her eyes traveled over the darkened village. The night had totally fallen upon it now.

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Iruka's eyes traveled tiredly over the bare walls of his place, the window in the kitchen part of the living a black square against the general whiteness of the room, the slow tick-tack of the clock the only sound that could be heard. It had been quite some time since he had used his-his parent's- hi-fi stereo. He found that he did not remember what were the Cds he owned - when was the last time he had bought a Cd ; when had been the last time he had bought anything for him, regardless of groceries, changes of uniform, work-related scrolls or weapons?

He rubbed his eyes with a writing-hurting hand. The pile of paper near his elbow had not grow that much since he had got back from the Hokage's tower. Re-reading and classifying and summarizing missions reports was as fun as running around Konoha backward on one's hands, and took time, but he was glad to have something to do beside trying to sleep, trying to walk without limping too much, trying to endure the reeducation like a grown-up, trying to cook and eat - trying to pretend this hellish mission had never occurred.

His stomach grumbled.

He set his head in his hands for a few moments before carefully standing up and fulfilling his body's needs. The feelings and mobility were coming back faster in his left arm than in his leg. He could more or less use his arm now, and not just have it useless in a sling. His left hand, however, was another matter entirely.

The dark square of the kitchen window grew darker and darker while he quickly fixed himself something to eat, leaving his mind wander around about things and others.

He would finally go tomorrow pay his respect to his parents. The incense and the offerings were sitting in a bag next to the door, ready to leave the apartment.

The dark square against the white walls of his place was like hypnotizing him.

_Was Kakashi back in the village?_

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His place was silent. His place was dark and deserted. His place was cold and his fridge was looking like his place: silent and deserted.

His stomach protested loudly against the ration bars diet he had followed, and wished nothing more than real food. Kakashi wanted real food too.

But his fridge was empty, and the only food he had in his cupboards was more instant dried food. It tasted a bit too much like ration bars for him. Kakashi sighed in the quiet darkness of his place.

He was tired, but not enough to sleep right now. He was hungry, but he decided in an unusual masochistic streak to forget about food. Tonight was feeling as good as another night to get hammered.

Strong of this decision, Kakashi forgot his pack in the middle of the room, shrugged out of his travel-used uniform, grabbed a shower and shrugged into a fresh-looking uniform before leaving his place.

Forget everything at least for a few hours was very high on his top priority list - just below finding a bar open.

He kind of liked Konoha better like this, he decided, wandering in the empty streets, the public light flickering on and off over his head, a whisper of wind running through the streets darkened by the streets, the ghost of an echo in his chakra for each ninja flying over the sleeping roofs. It was early in the night.

Then it was later in the night. He had already drank some amount of alcohol, but he had been trained to hold his liquor. Forgetting would come with some more glasses of nice, strong liquor. He reached for the bottle next to his glass, but another bottle than his beat him to the difficult task of refilling his glass. It was a young woman, a civilian - and after, the bar was too dark to see more details. She seemed pretty well gone on the plastered way. They talked, maybe. Or maybe it was only the alcohol talking.

They drank some more.

They got out. They got in somewhere else. They did not switch the light on and he did not tell her his name, nor did she. He made her moan and bit him and kiss him.

He forgot, for a few hours.

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A bleak light woke Kakashi up. He was in someone else's bed, with this someone else's arms around him. He got up, got his clothes back on, tied his forehead and slipped it on his eye.

He was... disgusted with himself. Ashamed. He was not really feeling like himself, not helped in the slightest by the traces of a hangover coming his way.

He closed quietly the door behind him, feeling like a complete asshole toward himself and toward this girl who he did not know the name. He felt like going to the monument and mentally confessing everything to the silent stone.

She had shoulder length hair of a dark brown, a firm and slender body, her skin healthily tanned by the sun.

_I'll try to make next chapter longer... See you all soon._


End file.
